


Take Me Down

by boltsy



Series: Sunken!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aquaphobia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltsy/pseuds/boltsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was 13, Sam went swimming. He had a traumatizing encounter with a water imp and never truly recovered. He developed an intense fear of water that kept him from even showering for years. After he moves away to college, and meets Jessica, he decides it's time to face his fears. He tells her everything, and she helps him not only overcome his fear of water...but embrace it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Down

A long sigh filled the air as Sam leaned back on his hands. He was still sweating, even with the fan a mere foot from his face on full blast. His forehead crinkled as he looked again to the door, praying for Dean to walk in with a stolen air conditioning unit or even a bucket of ice. They were in Phoenix this week, and it was mid-July. God knows Dad couldn't drive another 20 miles to find a hotel with A/C, this case was too important and he wanted to "keep a close eye." Sam rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the scratchy bedding, his arms splayed on either side of him. He hadn't had a shower in a week, and they'd been driving through this heat for the most of it. Dad had been gone for a little over three hours, leaving Sam and Dean to fend for themselves. Usually the threat of being robbed and killed was a bit more pressing than cooling off, but it was really hot.

Sam's eyes flew open and his mouth popped into a tiny "o." There'd been a lake. Maybe 2 miles back? Walking distance for sure. He sprang to his feet, sliding on his sneakers over dirty socks, and fished around in his bag for his towel before running from the hotel room. 

**  
Dean banged against the side of the ice machine again, growling in frustration. Either it worked or it didn't but it shouldn't keep playing with his heart like this. It would rumble loudly, like maybe, JUST maybe, it would spew a few cubes of ice, only to go completely silent just as Dean got the bucket ready. This had happened twice when Dean started to get violent. But the stupid machine was holding up fine, whereas Dean was now sporting a cut knuckle and several bruises.

He heaved a sigh and snatched the bucket off the ground, turning to march around the hotel again. He'd been in the heat for an hour, beating up a hunk of metal. He shook his head, cursing himself, and opened the door. 

"Hey, Samm-" 

The bucket clunked against the ugly carpet as Dean took long strides, checking the bathroom, under the beds, the closet. Empty. He smacked his forehead with the butt of his hand, running his fingers into the front of his hair. Think, Dean, you know the kid. 

He was overheated. He'd been whining about wanting to swim for days. Dean whipped around, catching Sam's bag beside his bed, open and rooted through. He would've grabbed his towel, maybe some shorts, and headed...where? The hotel didn't have a pool, Sam had pointed out as they checked in. He scrunched his eyes closed, racking his brain when he remembered, the same way Sam had, the lake. He'd asked Dad five times to go back so he could take a dip in the murky oversized pond. 

Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala, slamming the door behind him. The ground was nothing beneath the wheels as he screeched out of the parking lot, trying to remember the way back to where he knew his brother was.

**  
Sam was reminded of the many portraits of Ophelia he'd studied as he floated on his back, hands facing upward, sun on his cheeks. The water was cool, refreshing, although it'd been hard to get into. The small lake was surrounded by weeds and cattails, and horribly muddy until about 4 feet out. Sam had waded to the middle of the water to avoid the muck, and that's where he was now. He let the water slip through his fingers and smiled. Dean would be on his way here by now. His brother knew him. And he knew his brother. He wouldn't dare tell Dad for fear of being scolded himself. And anyways, it wasn't like Sam got hurt. It was just water.

He kicked at the slimy something that had crept onto his ankle and propelled himself back a little. It tightened. He grunted, eyes moving down to see--what the hell was that? Before he could look any closer, his eyes and mouth were filled with water. The thing, whatever it was, was pulling him under, creeping further up his body, it's slimy grip on him like a vice. He blinked and caught another glimpse through the murky water, sorting through his hunter's brain to try and think of what it might be and how he might get away. It was a dark, dirty blue color with a flat head and a hardened beak on it's face. It only had one arm...no wait, it had two, but they were both on one side of it's body. Everything fell into place and Sam gasped, choking when water came rushing into his throat. It was a Kappa.

Sam wriggled, trying to pull against the thing, but it swiftly wrestled him into submission, holding his mouth open and sitting on his back. They fell slowly to the bottom of the water, meeting the muddy bottom with no sound. Sam was beginning to black out, and the stinging in his chest had dullen to a cold solidity. He was going to die. He was dying right now. He closed his eyes, and went slack.

**  
Dirt flew as the Impala slid down the side of the interstate and almost into the water. Dean hit the brakes and pulled the emergency brake, hopping out. He was ready to give Sam a lecture, to ask him how stupid he thought Dean was, to tell him NEVER to do that again...but then he didn't see Sam. He knew his brother. He knew him down to the way he double knotted his shoes. He came to this lake. Dean jogged around the tree and saw Sam's shirt and shoes on the dirt. He looked out at the water and felt a creeping worry sting at the base of his throat. Was he hiding?

But then a slimy bluish hand--or rather, fin, erupted from the middle of the lake, wrapped crushingly tight around a pale, bloated wrist. Dean's shirt was off in seconds, his shoes thrown behind him along with his belt and jeans. He dove in, pulling at the water like his life depended on it--like Sam's life depended on it. The kappa wasn't expecting him and let out a screeching whistle when Dean wrapped his arm around its neck, pulling the head above water. The kappa held tight on Sam's body, dragging him with it as Dean struggled to pull it from the lake. 

He finally made it to shore and wrestled the slimy imp to the tree, where he pinned it, and with a swoop of his free arm, knocked the leaking silver plate right off the top of its head. It gasped, flopping weakly, trying to reach the water feebly. It weakened so fast it was almost comical, going from a roid-raging slime bitch one second to a crumpled old dead fish the next. Dean whipped around to Sam, who was unconcious and nearly naked, a puncture wound in his belly from the kappa's teeth.

Dean kicked the carcass of the kappa aside and started pumping and counting, hold the nose, breathe. Pump, count, hold, breathe. No response. No heartbeat. No nothing. Dean's last shreds of sanity broke in that second and he grabbed his brother by the shoulders, shaking him and slapping his face. He laid him back down, pumping his chest even harder, mostly likely bruising a few ribs. Tears slicked down his face through the cold lake water, warm tracks of denial. 

He had almost given up, almost collapsed into the mud, when Sam spluttered and coughed. 

"Sam?! Sammy?!" Dean shouted, shoving him up against the tree and holding his head down as he vomited water and blood. He sat breathing heabily, wheezing and drooling, before he leaned his head back and passed out again. Dean surveyed him quickly and picked him up with both arms, laying him down in the passenger seat and buckling him in. "It's alright, Sammy, you're gonna be ok, I promise, alright?" 

By the time Sam woke up in the hospital, he'd been out for days. The throbbing pain in his stomach hit him first, then the raw chill he felt in his bones. He could still feel the mud between his toes, in his ears, in his mouth. His hair was still wet. His body was submerged in ice cold water, and there were sharp teeth knawing at his liver. He screamed, flailing, and opened his eyes to see Dean. He was choking on his ventilator, his eyes watering from the gag. Dean placed a steady hand on each of his shoulders and eased him back down to the warm bed, and he tasted the metallic saline taste he was used to tasting when he was really messed up. Just after that, he blacked out again, having sedated terrors about yellow eyes and webbed hands and sharp, pointed, black teeth.

**  
John's wrath was unbearable. No matter how many times Sam said "I'm fine" he wouldn't stop screaming. Not at Sam. At Dean. Which is what made it all the worse. Dean had just gone to get ice to cool down the room, and it was Sam's decision to run off like a dumbass. Bobby just kept pinching his nose between his fingers and lowering his head, like he was disappointed but didn't want to say anything. 

"How could you let him leave like that? You're supposed to WATCH him, Dean!"

"Yeah, I know, Dad, but he got out, okay?! I was trying to get ice and he got out! I'm sorry!"

John finally stopped shouting and picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels. Shaking his head, he opened it and took a swig. When he slammed it back down on the table, Sam expected more yelling, but his voice was quieter. 

"I just expect more from you, Dean." 

"Yes, sir." 

And with that, John and Bobby were gone again in one of Bobby's old cars, back to hunting that vampire nest they'd been on before Dean had to call their dad to pay the bills. Sam had been piled up in the bed nearest the bathroom for 2 hours now, helpless as John told his brother how disappointed he was. Which was stupid and wrong seeing as he shouldn't be leaving us alone in the first place, thought Sam. He rolled onto his bandaged side to face Dean and hissed in pain. That would be a fun scar. 

"You know it's not your fault, Dean."

"I shouldn't have left you here alone, you're still too young."

"Hey, you were shooting at ghosts at my age!" said Sam, his brow furrowing. He'd always be too young, too helpless, too naive. He was sick of it. Either let him help or let him out.

"Yeah, well, you're not me, Sam. Obviously," Dean murmured. What was the most ridiculous about their dad was that he expected so much from Dean, but treated Sam like the holy child. They had their spats, whether it be about Mom or The Family Business, but John always forgave and forgot with Sam. Never with Dean. Not even two weeks back he pulled up a grudge he'd been holding on his oldest son for at least two years now, about the time he'd let Sam eat all the food. They'd gone four days with only the food Dean stole from the local store. Which wasn't much. And yet this was all Dean's fault. It was sickening.

Sam rolled to his other side, sulking. Trying to argue with Dean about Dad was like trying to tie your toes together. It was painful, useless, and altogether weird. It left Sam with a taste of bitterness in his mouth. 

"You need to take a shower," Dean said gruffly, climbing into bed himself. "You haven't bathed since before the hospital and to be honest, dude, you stink like fish."

Sam gritted his teeth and sat up, twisting to put his feet on the floor. Moving hurt. Standing hurt. Walking was excruciating. He stood and limped to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower and sat on the toilet. They'd tried to take him to the shower in the hospital and he'd nearly bitten his tongue in half. Sam realized it, obviously, before anyone else, but there was something in him he couldn't control. A fear he couldn't overcome. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw big yellow eyes and mottled blue skin. He felt the cold fill his lungs again, felt the darkness enclosing around him. 

Showering wasn't an option.  
**


End file.
